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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26805151">Against the Skin</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/'>Anonymous</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Hiveswap</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Bulges and Nooks, Fingering, Humor, I guess? Idk how to tag that one, Lingerie, Nook Eating, Other, Semi-Public Sex, Teasing, boys in lingerie, gender neutral reader</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 08:14:53</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,597</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26805151</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>What's hotter than lingerie? The punchline is that this time, you're not the one wearing it.</p><p>Quick smut fic from my tumblr.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Mallek Adalov/Reader</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>59</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Anonymous</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Against the Skin</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>May or may not make this a series.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    
<p></p><div class="">
<p></p><div class=""><p>When the elevator doors open, it immediately strikes you: something is off.</p></div></div><div class="">
  <p>It’s almost eerie. But as you settle in, familiarity wrapping around you out of habit if nothing else, you realize what’s wrong. It’s quiet. Too damn quiet.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Which isn’t to say that Mallek is loud! He keeps to himself, rarely speaking out loud except to laugh or show off for you. But usually you’d hear the clack of his nails against keys as he types, or the heavy, distressed whirring of his husk tower trying to keep up with his modded minecraft. You seek out the background noise that grounds you and are rewarded with a cool, impassive silence.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>As you step out of the elevator fully, you’re all but buzzing with anxiety. What’s going on? Where is he? But at the last second, you hear his voice.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The words are hard to make out; you doubt they would matter much anyway. He speaks in the distinct voice of someone wearing headphones, talking to their friends.  </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You sigh. So much for waiting for you. You set down the snacks you brought with you and glance at the clock. Ah, you guess his joke earlier about the scuttlebuggy was rooted in reality; you’re shockingly late. So that makes you the asshole in this situation.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You grin to yourself anyway. Mallek knows you too well to be genuinely mad about something like this. You’re glad he kept himself entertained, at least. You plan to do the same. As quietly as you can, you open the door to his gaming room and take a quick peek at him.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Well. Fuck. Talk about a role reversal. He’s belly down on his couch- now pulled out into a futon- and he’s wearing his hoodie.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>And nothing else. His leg shifts, and you’re forced to correct yourself: and something <em>tight and shiny</em> else. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Now your curiosity is really piqued. You arrived starving at a restaurant and were just served a tiny, unsatisfying <em>amuse-bouche</em>. Needless to say, you’re starving for more.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Unfortunately, you are not a light sensitive troll but a human stumbling blindly in the dark. You hit the dimmer switch, adding just enough light into the room to properly admire the view.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Mallek turns to look at you, the beginnings of a smirk on his face. A quick glance at his screen: he’s only about half-way through this match. You hold your finger to your lips, shushing him, and he returns to gaming.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>It’s so easy with him. You trail your nails up the back of his leg and are rewarded with goosebumps. The tips of your fingers find a strap and a buckle. You laugh to yourself: the whole point of a garter belt is to hold up stockings. A quick tap to his inner thigh catches his attention, and as he looks back at you, he starts to take his headphones off.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>An idea strikes you, though, now that you have him here in front of you. You shake your head ‘no’ at him, and hold your finger up to your lips again. He gulps, but takes the hint and goes back to his game.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You push the hem of his hoodie up, not that it’s really covering much. His garterbelt is tight, shiny latex, striped in pale cerulean and red on his hips against black. It’s tight enough to redistribute some fat; Mallek’s got cake and you’ve only had your appetizer. Dare you live so deliciously?</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>For now, you press a soft kiss to one cheek and sneak your hands up his hood, nose tracing his spine. Something else, mysterious and smooth and just as tight, constricts against his chest and waist beneath. You finger the folds of skin and soft plush of fat around it, but leave that particular reveal for later. At last, you place your palms flat, fingers spread, against his chest to pull him flush against yours.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You pull one side of his headphones away from his ear, the side away from his mic, and whisper, “is this okay?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He mutes his mic, breathing out a heavy “yeah,” and you nip at his ear lobe.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“You’re about to be the most useless member of your team,” you say lowly.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Heh. Clearly you’ve never seen me in action. I’m the MVP with one hand tied behind my back.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Bragging, and suggestively at that. Someone needs to be knocked down a peg.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Only MVP you’ll be tonight is most voraciously... phucked.” He snorts at this, so you release your fingers from his headphone and kiss your way down his neck before returning to the main event.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You run your fingers between his thighs, encouraging him to open for you. He does, slightly, and you use both hands to open him for you.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He’s already wet, and you’ve barely even touched him yet. He’s started talking to his friends again, sounding much too coherent. Can’t have that! You bring your face to him, breathing in the deep and masculine scent of him before you place your mouth against him.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>His pleasure nub pulses slightly against your lips, unused to receiving pleasure from this angle.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Fuck!” You hear him curse sharply, and then: “Missed the checkpoint, wait up for me at the next one.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Hm. Still too coherent, but it wouldn’t be so fun if it was easy. You continue to work him, sucking lightly before flicking your tongue lightly against his nub, taking small moments to lap up some genetic material. His sheath strains as his bulge makes itself known; at this angle, he can’t quite release it.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Too tight,” he says. “We’ll have to find a different angle of attack.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Taking pity, and with an exorbitant amount of effort on your part, you pull away. With the gentle encouragement of your hands against him, he raises his hips for you. Just in time, too; as you raise yourself to meet him, you’re able to flex your neck and work out a kink. Heh, in more ways than one, you guess. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“What a relief. Thought I was done for down there.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You smirk, and then you go back to work. Your mouth is greedy against him, lapping up everything he’s giving to you and seeking more, but not as greedy as your hands against his bulge.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Head south, I’m almost there. Maybe stick one in the crow’s nest.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You oblige him, stifling your sudden laughter against the back of his leg. But you do, dipping your thumb into his nook before dragging some of his genetic material upwards. You circle around his hole, but you don’t press in, knowing that Mallek is trusting you to keep him in just enough control to avoid humiliating himself.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Great, that’s- that’s great. Let’s go with head, uh, a headshot.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>That’s your cue to get back to work, so you do. Affectionately, you nose at his fold, pressing teasing kisses as his bulge squirms and wiggles between your guiding fingers. He is, as promised, most voraciously phucked.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Fuck yes!” You hear him shout, and then he’s all but scrambling to hit the mute button before he throws his headphones off his head.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Good game,” you purr, but he reaches back and presses your face harder into him. He’s groaning and cursing and generally babbling. The words don’t matter; his tone is sweet. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You press back against him, giving him back what he’s asking for. You provide more pressure for his nook to grind against, no longer seeking a patter but a rhythm with him. You press your thumb a little harder against him and grip his bulge with purpose.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He comes with a hoarse shout before he droops, sideways and boneless, onto the couch.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“It was good,” he slurs. “A really good game.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>For the first time that night, you kiss him. It’s soft, soft with familiarity and soft with greeting. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“You know,” you run your hand down his back, grabbing a fistful of ass before fidgeting with the buckle at the end of the garterbelt. “You’re supposed to wear stockings with these things.” You whack him lightly against the back of his leg with it before continuing on with your caress, running your hands up his hoodie this time.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I thought I’d get too sweaty. The latex is hard enough.” He snaps it against his belly to prove his point; a fine mist of sweat is disturbed as it hits his skin.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“But the hoodie was fine?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Yeah. I got cold waiting for you.” He slaps you playfully on the arm. “I had this whole plan...”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He starts rubbing his eyes as a yawn interrupts his train of thought.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Yeah? Tell me about it. Champagne by the 4k fire? I’m not seeing the rose petals here.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“No.” He agrees. You look at him expectantly. “I was waiting until I heard the elevator. Rose petals stain.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Wait, really?” You have to laugh. “You were planning to fuck me on your futon?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I was going to fuck you <em>romantically</em> on my futon.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You snort out a laugh, and he reaches over the side of the futon to throw a fistful of petals at your face.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>As your laughter subsides, he rolls you over onto your back.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“There’s still some unexplored territory,” he grabs the hem of his hoodie, dragging it up just enough for you to get the suggestion of the other mysterious thing he wears beneath. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Yeah? Ready for round two?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“A real gamer is always prepared for a tie-breaker.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He laughs with you as you roll him over. You’ll figure out what’s beneath his hoodie on your own terms.</p>
</div>
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